Saturday, August 23, 2008

I want to introduce you guys to another writing buddy of mine. Kimberly Frost is one amazing lady. Her first book isn't out until February, but I'd bet my best hairbrush that her work is as witty and interesting as she is. Thanks for joining us, Kimberly. Here's Kimberly...

I am not a professional drinker. I could not even claim amateur status in the Olympics since that implies training and a certain advanced knowledge of the sport.

I met my friend S for brunch at B’s in the village. I had once tried their peach mimosas with no ill effects and looked forward to one as I skimmed the menu and decided upon an Asian chicken salad. Then the word Bellini caught my eye. Don’t you find oranges to be bright and sunny? Like summertime in a glass?

About ten years ago I’d tried a frozen Bellini in a chain restaurant, and it had tasted like a melted Creamsicle, taking me back to my childhood days of buying ice creams from the truck that rolled through our neighborhood playing really loud and somewhat obnoxious music that set us to salivating like one of Pavlov’s dogs.

So while S ordered a mimosa, I ordered a Bellini.

“The Bellini martini?” the waiter asked.

“Sure,” I said with a smile, in a hurry to move on from ordering so I could visit with my friend.

As we chatted about life, plans, families, and work, I drank the cocktail. Deep in conversation, I was only vaguely aware of the fact that it bore no resemblance whatsoever to a milkshake. No, I thought with a slight cough, the rather vigorous concoction was stout enough to be used to cleanse wounds and clean countertops.

When S signaled the waiter to bring us another round, I began to shake my head, but got distracted when she launched into a description of her misadventures on an Alaskan cruise.

The meal ended too quickly, and S dashed off to pick up her kids while I meandered through the parking lot. Feeling flushed and a bit smothered by the hundred-degree heat, I realized, quite startled, that my lips were numb. Also, somewhere during the second Bellini martini, my head had turned into a beehive.

Clearly, driving was not an option.

The sun beat down on my head, scorching my highlights to brass. I had to seek shelter and fast.After an interminable hike in shoes not really meant for walking or standing, I found a haven.

The jewelry store was sixty-nine perfect degrees with soothing classical music and a saleswoman in a pale linen suit who smelled like lavender. She offered me water, which I graciously accepted.

I perused the glass cases full of sparkling accoutrements. The gemstones twinkled like stardust and the gold shone like molten sunshine. It occurred to me that Christmas was a mere seven months away. The bees buzzed pleasantly in my head, and I began pointing.

I will not tell you what I bought or what I spent. That is between me, the saleswoman who asked me to call her Dina, and my wonderful friends at MasterCard.

I will leave you with a parting thought. Oscar Wilde said, “Anyone who lives within their means suffers from lack of imagination.” Never wanting imagination to be in short supply, I am therefore forced to recommend brunch with a Bellini martini—or two.

I love chocolate mints, which means I should definitely not try them in martini form until at least after the new year. ;)

And, yeah, don't you just love Oscar Wilde quotes? I say we forget about cloning sheep and cats; let's go for the gold and clone Oscar. I'm not exactly sure where his DNA is buried, but that's why they invented the google, right? Who wants to go in with me? I've heard cloning is expensive, but there's still a little room on my MC.

I remember the first time I had a Margarita. It was over ice, not the frozen kind. It came in a big pitcher, and someone poured me a nice glass of the stuff. Well, it tasted like lemonade, so I drank it down and had another. And another. It was great lemonade. It was only after the fourth or fifth glass of this lemonade that I began to realize there was something more to it. I don't even remember the dinner we had soon after. Or who was with me. I think I may have given my keys to my wife, but then again, she may have had as much lemonade as I did. I haven't repeated that mistake.

What a fun day!! I'm sure the hangover hit about the same time the MC bill arrived. :-) Ahh, and Paul's post reminds me that we do live in Margaritaville. Summer time in Houston. Yum. Takes me back to college days of trashcan punch made with 190 proof grain alcohol. I have no idea how we survived.

Love Wilde's quotes (yes, I'm with you on the clone trip) and can't wait to read WOULD BE WITCH.

Yes, if we are cloning famous dead people, Oscar Wilde would be at the top of my list! And there is that Korean firm that just opened for business, cloning dead pets for bereaved owners. How much more expensive could cloning a dead playwright be?

Surely the money from Oscar-II's first screenplay he writes would cover it...

LOL You're not a professional drinker either, I see. I had the same kind of time you described, my first time in New Orleans. It was the anniversary of prohibition being repealed, so the famous Jack O'Brien's had 20 oz Hurricanes for a quarter. Not everyone liked the taste of them, so I had mine and someone else's. And in New Orleans, they know how to pour liquor.

It was the first time I ever got drunk. I was twenty-two(Right, never drank in high school or college. May explain why I'm a bit clueless at times when it comes to knowing my own limits.)

Anyway, the next day was not pretty. Now when I go to New Orleans, I'm VERY careful.

The Crime

The authors of this blog are hereby charged with writing Killer Fiction novels responsible for spontaneous outbursts of laughter in public places, uncontrollable swooning over larger-than-life heroes, and the deaths of countless fictional villains.

The Evidence

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